Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)

‘Soldiers frightened them off.’


‘Lucky for him. Or unlucky he got beaten before they came, I suppose. This city is more dangerous than hunting wildren, it seems.’ She barked a laugh. ‘Dion, if you can hear me, I’ve paid Algar from your wages. I’ve also given some coin to your’—she hesitated—‘manservant. For healing balms and supplies. There isn’t much left. Why in the name of Silex are you living in such expensive lodgings?’

Dion moaned.

‘Look, I know it hurts, but give it a couple of days and you’ll be all right. I’ve seen worse. Much worse. Hope you gave back as good as you got.’

Dion heard rustling.

‘Boy, listen. There’s not much you can do about his ribs. I’d say he’s broken at least two or three. It’ll hurt to laugh, so keep your jokes to a minimum.’ She snorted. ‘His head will clear. Put the poultice on his face, there, where it looks worst. Understand?’

‘Yes, mistress.’

‘Mistress? I like that. Look, I need to be going. You got all you need? Good. Tell him to come and see me when he’s better. He can tell me the story then, over a mug of beer. My treat.’

Dion fought to open his eyes, but the effort was too great.

Darkness overcame his senses.





40


The cells beneath the palace were empty. Chloe had the entire place to herself. The guards had thrown her inside one of several identical windowless chambers and then closed a heavy door behind her. She’d momentarily seen their faces through the grill at head height, before they’d slid the bolt and left.

She guessed that only valuable or dangerous prisoners must be kept in this place. The sun king’s captives would usually be either enslaved or immediately put to death. Although the copper chain around Chloe’s neck remained, the amulet Tomarys had bought her was gone; the guards knew such things could be bought in the market. Still overwhelmed by horror – she had killed a man, a true friend – she spent hours trying not to be consumed by her ragged emotions. Even so, she wrapped her arms around her knees and whimpered, leaning back against the hard stone wall and seeing flashing images of Tomarys’s suffering.

Finally, she fell asleep, huddled in the corner of her cell. She didn’t know how long she slept, only that it was for a long time. Her lips were dry and her throat parched; she had yet to be given any food or water.

Sudden remembrance struck like a dagger in the heart. She saw the stake driven up through Tomarys’s insides, emerging from his throat. She heard his terrible gurgling moan.

Chloe sobbed, but stifled it before it took hold of her. She had to be strong. She forced herself to look up and examine her surroundings.

It was dark, near pitch black; the only light came from the end of the corridor she’d entered through. The air was dry and cool. Standing and walking to the thick door, she peered through the window and counted six cells; she was in the cell closest to the door.

She heard movement – a soft tread of footsteps – and frowned, trying to locate the source of the sound. She then realized that her initial assessment was wrong: she wasn’t alone after all. A shadowy face appeared, staring at her through the bars of the most-distant cell.

‘You are upset, I take it?’ a wry voice said. ‘It has been a long time since I have had a companion here. I must say, I wasn’t expecting someone like you. How old are you, human?’

The figure brought his face forward so that the barest amount of light touched his features. Chloe saw high cheekbones and sharp features. He was the last person in the world she expected to see.

‘Zachary?’ She clutched hold of the bars but then faltered. An eldran was looking at her, but he wasn’t Zachary. ‘Who are you?’

He was tall, even for an eldran, and despite his sharp chin his face was broad and strong. When he shifted his head Chloe saw that he was completely bald and that his left eye was missing, displaying an empty, wrinkled socket. She had never seen an eldran so visually striking.

‘My name is Triton,’ he said. ‘You have heard of me? No?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I am the king of the eldren.’

‘King?’ Chloe was so surprised that she momentarily forgot about her own predicament. ‘I didn’t know the eldren had a king.’

He lifted his chin and spoke proudly. ‘The blood of Marrix runs in my veins.’

With his movement Chloe now saw that he had a thin golden collar around his neck. She wondered at its purpose. Eldren weren’t fond of metal, and could never willingly touch it.

‘Who is Marrix?’ The name was familiar, but Chloe couldn’t place it.

‘The last king to command all of the eldren. He died long ago, but his struggle is not forgotten. He led us, before most of my people turned wild and were lost to us. I have long ruled the eldren who live in the place you call the Waste.’

‘Why are you here?’